Make Way for New Life
by WizMonCruWil
Summary: My 200th FanFic! I hope you guys like it! This one is short, but partially inspired by all the stories I have seen theorizing the other District 12 Victor's identity, as well as a moment I alluded to in Coal Swollen with the Pearls of a Tribute. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: 75th Reaping

**Chapter 1: 75th Reaping**

I tug at my blue dress as I wait off to the side with my mother and sister. I really don't know why I have to wear it, since neither Prim nor I are in danger of being Reaped, even though I am only 17 and she is only 13.

For this is a Quarter Quell year for the death match known as the Hunger Games. Ever quarter of a century, there is some twist to the fight to the death amongst the 12 districts of Panem that adds some spice. This time, the tributes will be Reaped from each district's existing pool of Victors, past winners of the Hunger Games.

District 12 has not done too bad a job for itself over the years. Even if we are seen as one of the loser districts. In 75 years, we have had five wins. One of them was the previous Quell. I've never been alive to see a tribute of ours win. District 12 outranks two others for number of victories, and ties three more. But it would be nice to actually witness a District 12 tribute come back alive. Even as Peacekeepers escort three men and two women into gendered pens just before the stage. After the Dark Days speech, Mayor Undersee reads their names:

"The Victor of the 2nd Hunger Games: Anya Hart!" An 89-year-old woman shakily stands with the help of her colleagues. One of the very first Victors. It's a miracle that she's still alive. Most Victors don't live past their sixties, and those that do are treated with great respect.

"The Victor of the 13th Hunger Games: Duke Vedaldi!" Duke is in his late 70s, but still ruggedly handsome.

"The Victor of the 14th Hunger Games: Raab Ravenott!" Raab is only a year behind Duke, I think, which requires bringing up an interesting commonality between all five of our Victors: they all won at 16 years old. And Raab is probably the only one who has married, and broken what is known as the Victors' Code, forbidding attachments. He wed an old shoemaker's widow, after she lost both her children to the Games.

"The Victor of the 16th Hunger Games: Cassiope Fletch!" It is rumored that Cassiope - who has been alive as long as the Games have been in existence - married a kindly Peacekeeper many years back, but entirely in secret. Only a Toasting of bread - District 12's marriage tradition, and no official registry with the Justice Building. But these rumors have never been confirmed. The Teens - so, really, 60 years ago - were the heyday for District 12 wins. We almost got a Hat Trick, three in a row, but were denied by a loss in the 15th Games.

"The Victor of the 50th Hunger Games, or Second Quarter Quell: Haymitch Abernathy!" Haymitch is only 41 and a drunkard. Good for a laugh, as he sways whilst trying to stand.

Our district escort, Effie Trinket, now bounds to the microphone to begin the Reaping. Three men to choose from and two women. At least our Reaping won't be painful with only one option for any gender. She draws the woman first:

"The female tribute from District 12: Anya Hart!" Anya needs a cane and help from Peacekeepers to get to her place.

"The male tribute from District 12: Raab Ravenott!" Raab strides to his spot. At least it isn't Haymitch, poor guy. He's already won a Quell, and to have him go back in now would be embarrassing.

The tributes shake hands and are escorted into the Justice Building.


	2. Chapter 2: French a Stranger

**Chapter 2: French a Stranger**

The Third Quarter Quell is a predictable loss for District 12. Fast forward a year later, and it is a regular Games... and my last Reaping.

For most 18-year-olds, surviving their last Reaping is extra special, particularly for the girls. For if one has a boyfriend, he will often kneel before you and ask you to marry him as soon as the Reaping is over.

It's not like anyone will do that for me, though. And I have for a long time had no plans to marry. Besides, who would have me? Prim is the real beauty of the Everdeen family.

Two years ago, however, I had thought my best friend, Gale Hawthorne, might ask me after his last Reaping. It would have been cute on his part, and not unheard of - many marriages today, especially in the Seam, are based on two people who are only platonic friends. There is an expectation in Twelve that everyone should be married, and those that aren't - like my widowed mother and Gale's mother, Hazelle - are an exception to the rule. Even some widows remarry eventually, though Mother never has. But, anyway, no proposal came from Gale two years ago. So I am preparing myself for him to ask me this year, after my last Reaping.

Unless, of course, I am picked.

But I am not. And neither is Prim. And I don't know the male tribute either. Our new recruits have barely been hustled away when boys begin to kneel before girls with rings en masse and pop the question.

Looking across the expanse, I can see Gale kneel before Madge Undersee, the Mayor's daughter who has always had a crush on him and she happily accepts. I smile sadly at the sight. Oh, well...

Just then, I feel a tug on my shoulder. I expect it to be Prim, telling me we need to go. But instead, it is Peeta Mellark.

Peeta Mellark is the youngest of the baker's three sons. He's a Merchant, and we are classmates in school, though we don't know each other well at all. We only interacted once and it was years ago. He is on the wrestling team. Muscular build. Blonde hair and deep blue eyes.

My stare of confusion turns into one of astonishment as Peeta Mellark suddenly kneels before me and pulls out a ring.

"Katniss... I know we don't really know each other... but I have been in love with you since we were five years old. Would you marry me?"

I ogle at him in disbelief. A complete stranger has just asked me for my hand in marriage! I should laugh at Peeta for his gall.

But, actually, I admire him for his chutzpah. All the more so that he is asking for marriage from a young Seam woman, across class lines, which is still largely frowned upon in this district. Besides, he leads a worthy profession. Strong. Good with his hands. And kind.

So, I make a split second decision. I suddenly grab Peeta, dip him and firmly press my lips to his. It quickly becomes a heated French kiss, as I slip my tongue in between his lips and massage him there. Peeta, though stiff with surprise at first, quickly relaxes into my impulsive kiss and even kisses me back. At last, we break apart. I release him jerkily.

"No children," I whisper in his ear. I will not sacrifice any babies of mine to the Games. I refuse. But I will marry him. As a thank you for saving my life with bread when I was starving. I owe him. And Seam folk always feel strongly about being indebted to someone.

* * *

A few weeks later, I don my mother's wedding dress. Peeta arrives at our Seam home in a suit. Kneeling beside the fireplace, the two of us share a kiss after we toast the bread and share it. My family and the Hawthornes (Peeta's family is not present, sadly) cheer our union.

And I party with my new husband long into the night.


End file.
